Simon Lelic - The Child Who

Stephanie shuffled forwards, pressing her knees against the coffee table and reaching half-heartedly across it. ‘Vince. Please. I’m sure that’s not what this is about.’

Blake stood. ‘This is over. We’ve said all we’re going to.’

Karen rose to face him. ‘Mr Blake. Vincent. I promise you. This entire conversation is completely confidential. There is simply no way I would—’

‘Let’s go, Steph.’

Stephanie looked up at Karen.

‘Stephanie!’ Blake was halfway across the room. ‘I said, let’s go!’

His wife looked down. She started gathering her things.

Blake waited with his hand on the door handle. There was an unlit cigarette jutting from his lips, a lighter sparking in his grip. He tapped his trainer on the floor as he watched his wife, pointedly avoiding Karen’s gaze. Karen started to speak, to make one last attempt to stop them leaving, but Blake was quicker to find his voice.

‘We just want this over,’ he said and he glowered. ‘Understand? All your prodding, your poking about – it’s not gonna help.’

Karen could think of nothing to say.

‘Leave things alone. Leave us alone. All we want is our lives back to normal.’

And then, of course, Karen could have answered. Your lives will never be back to normal, she might have said. This, the way things are – it’s how they’re going to be.

‘And then they left.’

Leo was stirring sugar into his coffee. There were two empty cups in the centre of the table, a steaming one in front of each of them. Leo stopped stirring and allowed his spoon to drip. He settled it noiselessly on the saucer.

‘Leo? Did you… Are you okay?’

He looked up. ‘Sorry? What? Yes, I… Sorry,’ he said again. ‘It was a long weekend. That’s all.’ He sat straighter. ‘So what do you think?’

Karen peered at him before answering. ‘To be honest,’ she said, ‘I found it quite upsetting. Not that these things aren’t always upsetting but… well…’

‘Because of Blake, you mean? He’s like that with everyone. He’s a moron, I told you. Doesn’t give a damn about anyone but himself.’

Karen shook her head. ‘Not because of him. On the scale of obnoxiousness among the people I have to deal with in this job, he barely scrapes a seven. And anyway,’ she said, turning her cup, ‘I’m not sure that’s true.’

‘That he’s a moron?’

‘No. He’s definitely a moron. I mean the bit about him not giving a damn.’

Leo frowned. He started to ask Karen what she meant but she was dangling her arm into the bag at her feet, looking the way she was reaching. She glanced briefly at the tables around them – empty but for two mothers with their babies and an elderly couple crossing forks over a slice of carrot cake – then slid an A4 envelope alongside Leo’s cup of coffee.

‘What’s this?’

‘Just something I found. Something I obtained, rather. Take a look.’

Leo lifted the flap and pulled out the sheets that were inside. ‘What is this?’ He turned from the first page to the last. ‘There was an investigation?’ He turned back again. ‘Why weren’t we told about this?’ He noticed the date and pinned it with his finger. ‘This was after. This was since Daniel’s arrest. Why weren’t we told about this?’

Karen raised a shoulder. ‘I’m guessing they don’t have to tell you.’

Leo read, gobbling the words too quickly for them to properly register. He looked at Karen. ‘How did you…’

‘I have a friend.’

Leo looked again at the report. ‘She took a risk, giving this to you.’

‘We’re close,’ said Karen, ‘he and I.’

Leo raised his head. Karen lowered hers.

‘And anyway,’ she said, ‘it doesn’t help particularly. Not in the way you might expect.’

Leo read aloud: ‘“No evidence of abuse is established.”’ He skimmed. ‘“Daniel’s name will not be entered on the Child Protection Register.”’

‘And here . Look.’

Leo tracked Karen’s fingertip. ‘“No connection has been established between any abuse and the alleged offence.”’ He looked up. ‘In other words…’

‘“It wasn’t our fault. There’s no way they can pin this on us.”’

Leo sniffed. ‘Well. That’s all right then. So long as social services have got their own arses covered, nobody has anything to worry about. Their jobs are safe.’

‘From what my friend told me, the investigation wasn’t exactly comprehensive. But that was the point,’ Karen said. ‘It was an exercise in self-exoneration.’

Leo tossed the report onto the table. ‘They still should have told us. Even if it doesn’t help Daniel’s defence, they are morally obligated to—’

‘Not so fast.’ Karen gathered together the sheets and started flicking. ‘It doesn’t help in the way you might expect. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t help at all. Read here.’

She thrust the pages towards him.

‘But we knew about this,’ said Leo after a moment. Daniel, as a toddler, had a history of visits to the emergency ward: twice following ‘falls’, once after swallowing household bleach, a fourth time after ingesting tricyclic antidepressants. He thought they were sweets, Daniel’s mother had explained at the time; he must have done. ‘They investigated,’ Leo said. ‘It says so right here. “Concerns were raised but were demonstrated to be unfounded.”’

‘Unfounded,’ Karen echoed. ‘Please. A baby has four near-fatal accidents in his first thirty-six months and social services see no cause for concern.’

‘They must have looked into it, though. They must have asked questions.’

‘It’s where they looked that’s important. It’s what kind of questions they asked, of whom.’ Karen shook her head. ‘I’m not blaming social services,’ she said, not entirely convincingly. ‘They’re underfunded, understaffed, underappreciated. The point is, something was clearly going on. Maybe we knew the facts before but we didn’t know the context. Daniel’s medical record, tied with his mother’s depression…’

‘Her depression? How do you know she was depressed?’

‘Not was. Is. You don’t need to be a doctor to diagnose that. I’m guessing about when it started but it certainly pre-dates the murder. My hunch would be post-natal. The pills Daniel swallowed could have been anybody’s but most likely they were Mummy’s or Daddy’s.’

‘You think Mummy’s.’

‘I do. Who gave Daniel the pills, though, is another question.’

‘Who gave them to him?’

‘Gave them to him, left them out for him to find – it amounts to the same thing.’

‘But it could have been an accident. Couldn’t it? You don’t think you’re jumping to conclusions?’

‘It could. And yes, I am. But that’s what I’m here for. Isn’t it?’

Leo puffed his cheeks. He stared at the pages, not seeing the words.

‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Let’s say you’re right. So what? How does what happened to Daniel as a baby have any connection with the crime he’s accused of now?’

‘It doesn’t,’ Karen said. ‘Not if you’re looking for a direct link. Indirectly, though, it explains everything. It sets a pattern. It establishes the nature of Daniel’s relationship with those closest to him and by extension with everyone around him. Depending on who you believe, Leo, it’s what happens to us in our formative years that most influences our behaviour as adults.’

‘Show me the child and I’ll show you the man. Who said that? John Lennon?’

‘Stalin, actually. Also, the Jesuits. But yes, that kind of thing. And it’s doubly true in the case of sexual abuse.’

‘Sexual abuse? Jesus Christ, Karen.’

‘What? You’re surprised?’